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<title>Yaim'la by Shelaar (JonathanAnubian)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29200800">Yaim'la</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonathanAnubian/pseuds/Shelaar'>Shelaar (JonathanAnubian)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crochet, Gen, Hobbies, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mandalorians (Star Wars)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:55:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29200800</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonathanAnubian/pseuds/Shelaar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Mandalorian Mercenary who recently joined their crew is a large and scary bastard, everyone knows. So when they see him in casual clothes and working on something with his scarred hands they can't help but ask; what the hell is he up to?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>High Council Bounty 2/21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Yaim'la</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Scindo finally relaxed around the new crew he’d joined up with was the first time anyone realized the large, intimidating, Zabrak was really just as mortal as everyone else.</p><p>Instead of the midnight blue and crimson red striped armor he normally wore, he had left his quarters in a pair of well-worn baggy trousers and a large black turtleneck that looked home-made. His bright amber eyes, black swirling tattoos, and crown of horns along his hairline still made him look like someone you didn’t want to mess with but the softness of the clothes hid the hard lines of his muscled body from sight, making him seem like less of a killing machine.</p><p>Less like a predator.</p><p>The basket in his hand was an interesting thing, also home-made and looking a little worn. It garnered a lot of attention as the Mando chose a large plush chair and settled into it as if he owned it. The crew members who were in the communal room, relaxing and chatting with one another amicably, watched him with open curiosity as he set the basket on the floor and swung his legs over the side of the chair, crossing his ankles comfortably.</p><p>The fact that he was lounging without a care in the world wasn’t the part that stumped the crew, however.</p><p>It was what happened next.</p><p>Opening the basket he pulled out something brightly colored, in this case emerald green and a rich purple, and settled it into his lap. Two long strands of color flowed from the object down into the basket. After rummaging around a moment he pulled out a small slender tool that looked almost like a stylus. Leaning back into the chair he stuck the tool into the object with one scarred hand, picking up the strands and making a twisting motion.</p><p>There was absolute silence for all of five minutes before someone finally blurted out; “Are you knitting?” The idea was so outside the realm of possibility that no one could believe it to be true.</p><p>“No.” Came the deep rumble of his response, to everyone’s visible confusion.</p><p>“But-” The large man chuckled, an amused smirk crossing his face.</p><p>“It’s crochet.” He said without an iota of shame or reprimand, his hand not hesitating once as he continued to build on what he had already made.</p><p>“Crochet? What the kark is that?” One of the crew slapped a hand over the mouth of the one who spoke, hissing at him to shut it.</p><p>No one wanted to piss off the Mandalorian Mercenary in their midst. Regardless of whether or not he was in his armor he was still a deadly warrior.</p><p>“It’s similar to knitting, but instead of using two needles you use a hook like this one. It’s a useful skill to learn, relaxing too.” Well, at least that was something. So far he’d been a fairly friendly individual, when not on the job, for a Mando at least. But if he was finally relaxing around them it had to be good… right?</p><p>“What are you, uh, making?” Someone asked tentatively.</p><p>“This?” He held up the piece and it was hard not to stare in open mouthed surprise.</p><p>The piece was beautiful. Delicate purple flowers flowed down the piece like hanging vines. The work was quite large and intricate looking, soft even from a distance.</p><p>“It’s for my cousin. She’s about to be a mother for the first time.” His expression softened. “It’s tradition to give gifts to new parents to help them with their new responsibility.”</p><p>“You Mandos are very big on family, right?” Scindo smiled.</p><p>“Yes, we are. Nothing is more important than family.” With that said he went back to work. There was still a few months until the baby was due but he wanted to ensure it was finished and he had enough time to ship it, if he couldn’t head home and deliver it himself. If all else failed he’d just have to call his sister. She’d be annoyed to play courier, but she’d do it for him if he asked.</p><p>After all, what was family for if not to help one another?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not gonna make up an in universe name for crochet. We’ll just pretend that French is the native language of a species in the GFFA who work with textiles a lot.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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